AMIGOS! I apologize for my sense of humor taking a hiatus there. My sensitive side really threw a hissy fit for a bit but it's slowly calming down. I'm back and ready to make fun of myself. So let's throw it back to my senior year of high school, where my next awkward recollection takes place.
Every year, as the summer comes to a close, the town my high
school is in has a massive fair. It's a pretty big deal. People come from all
over to spend money on food that makes your arteries clog just by looking at it and to go on rides that look like they
could fall apart at any given moment (can you tell how much I enjoy fairs?) And
yet it's still important enough for my high school to get a half-day on opening day so that everyone can go.
I've never had positive experiences with fairs. I was the kid you
would see get off of rides and sprint to the trash can because she
absentmindedly ate a cheeseburger before going on it. In seventh grade I got dumped
while waiting in line for the ferris wheel. One year in high school some dude's cigarette lighter flew out of his pocket on a spinny ride and skyrocketed smack dab to the middle of my forehead (that left a bruise). Do my faithful followers remember my Gettysburg Address tragedy? Yup, that was on a fairground too. You think after that I would have stayed clear of any fairground in America. But it was my senior year, and I
figured this was my last chance to maybe, just possibly, have an enjoyable time and watch
the fireworks with my friends at the end of the night.
And I did! For the first two hours. Then my friend convinced
me to get on that stupid ride that spins around so quickly that you stick to the wall. And
that, my friends, is where the story begins.
I knew the second I walked into that circular death trap that I was making a really bad life
decision. I don't do motion very well, so I knew there was a snowball's chance
in hell that I would walk off of it in the same state I walked on. But even still, there I stood, in front of a rubber mat just waiting to be tortured. And then it began. A few seconds of spinning went by and next thing you know, the
floor drops and I'm still sticking to a wall.
Can I pause here? The floor drops and you stick to a wall. Who
came up with this mistake?
Press play. This is just about where the night began to go
downhill rapidly. The second the floor dropped, I'm fairly certain my heart
ceased to function. I honestly felt as if I was
trying to take deep breaths with an Escalade on top of my chest. My friends
could tell I was driving the struggle bus big time, so they tried to get the
attention of the carnie in the middle to stop the ride. But here's the
catch: his back was turned toward us, and for the moron who probably had between two and twelve DUI's, turning around to check on every passenger apparently wasn't an option. A very long three minutes therefore ensued, all of which I was breathing like Nemo on a tanning bed. When the ride finally ended, the floor
rose back up, and the mats dropped to let me back down about as gently as a
tornado would. This does not go well for a person whose body has gone completely
numb. That person is me, who flopped on the floor in a nearly unconscious
state. My friend proceeded to lift me up from underneath the arms and drag me
out of the ride.
She hauled me out onto the grass and next thing I know someone was
taking my pulse and blood pressure (which were both high) telling me I needed
to be brought to the emergency center at the fair. They put me on a stretcher
and took me away. But at the Woodstock Fair, one does not simply get put on a
stretcher unnoticed. About half of my high school watched on as some girl was
getting taken off a ride on a stretcher.
Then I heard "some girl" rapidly turn into an identified
"MOLLY? EHMAHGAWD THAT'S MOLLY!" from a sea of voices. Do I close my
eyes so I can't look anyone in the eye, or not because everyone will think I'm
dead? Looking back on it, I should have just looked up at the crowd and done a graceful side-to-side Duchess Kate wave. But on that day, my solution was to just look at the sky and pretend the rest of the world
didn't exist. That trick only worked for so long, because Monday came and it seemed as if every person I walked by was asking if I was okay because if they hadn't witnessed the event they sure had heard about it.
Needless to say, I haven't gone back to a fair since.
The scary part about the experience was that in those moments when I felt suffocated, I was completely out of control. I couldn't just hop off the ride at my own discretion. As much as I felt that I needed the ride to stop, it was being controlled by someone else and I needed to wait on his timing.
Friends, does that sound familiar at all?
I have always been a planner, and perhaps a bit of a control freak. Okay, definitely a lot of a control freak sometimes. Things need to go exactly this way at exactly that time. And let me tell you all, that has done absolutely nothing except for kick me in the butt. If you had asked me four years ago where I would be the summer after graduating college, I would say "in an advanced standing program getting my Masters degree and living with my best friends, but not for very long because I'll hopefully be engaged!"
... I just laughed at loud at myself. My not-in-grad-school and not engaged self who is currently living alone and also currently in a long-distance relationship, which I told my sister (who dates a Marine) multiple times I could "never ever" do.
But through all of this, I've sure learned my lesson. My plan is not the best plan. The best plan is in the hands of the Almighty Controller, and life needs to lived according to His perfect timing, not mine. Lamentations 3:25 (ESV) reads,
"The Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the soul who seeks him."
I used to think my timing would work out if I prayed for it when I wanted it. Ask and you shall receive, right? Well, it depends on how you're asking. I prayed as if God was a waiter who would bring my burger to the table after twenty minutes, and if it didn't come on time I would be sitting there snapping my fingers asking why I haven't gotten my food yet. That's not how God works. God hears us and wants to bless us, but we have to be patient. We have to be willing to wait for it and trust that His timing is better than our own, and continue to seek Him faithfully in the season of waiting.
Picture God giving you a present, in a perfectly wrapped box with a bow on top. As you anxiously and excitedly go to rip it open, God says "No, not yet." Confused, anxious, and even frustrated, you put the gift down and you wait. Day after day of God saying no, you begin to wonder what the purpose of it was. After what seems like forever goes by, one day God smiles at you knowingly and finally gives you permission to open it up. You unwrap it, carefully and hesitantly as the waiting has made you uncertain, but open the box to see the most beautiful, breathtaking, and lively flower you have ever seen in your life. If you had opened it when God initially gave it to you on your own timing, you would have simply opened up a box with a measly seed. It's not until after you open the gift that you understand why God made you wait for so long.
And that is exactly what's happening during the seasons of waiting - God has planted the seeds in our lives that are just waiting to blossom into something more beautiful and satisfying. Remember this when you are waiting on God - and recognize that He has not forgotten you. The gift doesn't have to be opened for it to still be there, right by your side in His hands.
Last but not least, here's a song for you all per usual. This band is a hidden gem I discovered in high school, and I frequently (and regretfully) forget about them. This is a beautifully soothing song that's perfect for turning down at the end of the day after the sun goes down. And this guy nailing high notes? Just wait for it.
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